


to kiss the skin that crawls from you

by blizzardeggs



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Canon Asexual Character, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Queerplatonic Relationships, Rape Recovery, Trans Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Trans Martin Blackwood
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:20:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26502805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blizzardeggs/pseuds/blizzardeggs
Summary: Elias has been arrested. After four years of being his sex slave, Jon is finally free, and Martin's been assigned to take care of him full time. If only Jon hadn't forgotten his life outside of Elias, and wasn't convinced that he was just being sold off again. Still, Martin has an...unconventional solution--at least, unconventional for his professional life.
Relationships: Georgie Barker & Jonathan Sims, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, Martin Blackwood/Peter Lukas, Martin Blackwood/Peter Lukas/Jonathan Sims, Past Elias Bouchard/Jonathan Sims - Relationship, Queerplatonic Jonathan Sims & Alice "Daisy" Tonner, past Georgie Barker/Jonathan Sims - Relationship
Comments: 100
Kudos: 242





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> first of all, i want to thank the members of the magnus writers server and the peter server for helping me bounce ideas off of them and fleshing stuff out!!
> 
> second of all, to avoid potential confusion, jon refers to himself as "(the) toy" and with it/its for part of this first chapter, then partway through martin gives him the name "doe" and uses they/them pronouns for him, since jon doesn't remember his own name. this'll continue for the next few chapters until they can figure out jon's name
> 
> third of all, while they're not here in the first chapter, these will come up in later ones:  
> \- nonsexual and sexual kink being used as coping mechanisms  
> \- references to/implied past sexual abuse and sexual slavery, though nothing is explicitly shown (i Might have jon talk to martin about what happened more in depth later on, but i'm still undecided on that right now)  
> \- martin is peter's sugar baby
> 
> so if you're not okay with any of those, this isn't the fic for you
> 
> EDIT: i am not (+ haven't been) in the medical or social work industry, so if some things are inaccurate or seem off, that's why

This time, the screams can’t be ignored.

It’s not like they were loud enough to alert the neighbors before. Elias had made sure of that, carrying out punishments in rooms that had been soundproofed. Maybe he had just forgotten to do so, blinded into a rage at seeing his toy drop a teacup from its shaky hands. Maybe he had just gotten careless, so convinced that no one would care that he didn’t see the point of dragging it away.

Either way, the result was the same. He was being led away in handcuffs and shoved into a police car—rather undignified, he would’ve said—and was forced to watch his toy being carried away from the car door window.

— — —

The toy understands why it had been punished. It had dropped a teacup, and shards of fine china and tea spilled across the floor. The fact that some of the shards had gotten embedded in its foot, or that the tea scalded its calves didn’t matter. It had to be punished, and it was.

It didn’t understand why it was being taken away. Did its Master hate it that much? It had never been punished like _this_ before; no matter what, its Master always wanted it to be his. How badly did it fuck up this time?

The toy whimpers as its Master gets into the police car and drives away. Is it going to see him again? What’s going to happen to it now? It can hear the people around it talking, but what do they mean by “social work” and “an abuse shelter”? Where is it going?

It supposes it doesn’t have much of a choice. As if it ever did. 

“We’re going to do some first aid on you before we take you to social services, alright?” One of the people says. The toy doesn’t read it as a question, but a command, and lets the people set it on the ground. It stifles whimpers and cries as shards are pulled out of his foot, biting down on its tongue. It can’t shed any tears.

Soon enough, something is being wrapped around its foot—bandages, it’s pretty sure—and it’s being helped up again. 

“Poor, ah...thing? Can barely even walk.”

“Their foot’s all bloody, not very surprising.”

The toy realizes that they’re taking it outside. It can’t. It can’t leave. It’s not supposed to, they _can’t leave—_

“Oh! Hey, hey, it’s alright…” One of the people tries to shush it. “You’re never coming back here again, okay?”

That sentence just makes it thrash more, and the people’s grip on it gets tighter. “Just, just calm down, alright? I promise things are going to be a lot better once you leave.”

But outside this house is unknown.

The toy didn’t have much energy even before the caning, and its weak, horrible limbs can’t take its thrashing very long. Soon, it’s limp, and the people can carry it out again. All it can let out is a pathetic whine as it's taken from the only thing it's ever known.

— — —

When the toy wakes up again, it’s in a very different place. An _unfamiliar_ place.

It should look comforting; the walls painted baby blue with a light wooden floor. But the thin blanket and the counter and cabinet in the corner with a sink tell him a different story.

It remembers going to the vet. Where people in white coats would poke and prod at it and tell its Master that it was alright now. It always hated those, but it couldn’t let that show. Because the vets told its Master what he wanted to hear, and if it disobeyed, there would be even more of a punishment coming afterwards.

It freezes when the door opens, but oddly enough, it doesn’t recognize the man that comes in. He’s wearing a white coat, yes, but he looks younger than the vets that cared for him previously. He has dark skin, and some of his long dreadlocks are tied back. When he finally looks over at it, he lets out a soft, “Oh.

“I didn’t expect you to be awake,” he says, taking a stool near the counter and dragging it over to its bed. As he sits down, he continues. “Sounds like you had a rough ride here. Although...I suppose that’s a given, from what I’ve been told.”

The man flips part of the blanket over, enough to reveal the toy’s feet. As he gets closer, it can read a nametag on his coat that says _Dr. Oliver Banks_ on it. Why is a _doctor_ taking care of _it?_ Humans have doctors, but toys like it don’t.

It bites its tongue again as Dr. Banks inspects its injured foot. His hands are oddly cold, but...it’s different than before. Its mind was barely around when it was at the vet, trying to think of anything else other than _they’re shining a light down my throat_ and _they’re sticking their fingers in my holes._ Dr. Banks’s hands have the exact opposite effect, but it’s far from unpleasant. It knows that he’s looking at his foot, and writing things down on a clipboard. It hears the bandages being pulled away, and it hears him sucking in a breath at what’s underneath. “Looks like we’ll need to bandage that again,” he says, before getting up.

Its eyes widen; it doesn’t want Dr. Banks to leave. Its thoughts swell again with _he left because you’re broken_ and _he can’t do anything to fix you_ and _you are broken broken **broken** and it’s your fault—_

Dr. Banks is at its side again, wrapping new bandages around its foot. They feel fresh and snug around its foot. “There we go,” he says, folding the blanket up further to expose his calves. “Your burns are healing nicely as well. Thankfully, they’re just first degree ones, but we’ve asked your new caretaker to put aloe gel on them every day if you’re unable to by yourself.”

It nods, but only because it feels like it has to. _New caretaker?_ Is it being sold again? Who is it going to? Are they going to be like its old Master?

All questions it shouldn’t ask. Toys can’t ask questions. 

“I’ll go get him for you, actually. You two should get acquainted with each other first.”

It’s going to be sold off, then. It wants Dr. Banks to come back, but he leaves the room anyway. _You’re just going to be sold off again. Your new Master will just as quickly realize how broken and useless you are. Maybe he’ll be merciful and sell you off early. Even though you don’t deserve it. You should just be beaten and broken until there’s nothing left._

The door opens again, and Dr. Banks enters with a new person. This new person is slightly bigger than Dr. Banks, and they look...soft. They have short, bushy hair, and it notices the freckles dotting their arms and face as they sit down. There’s a pin on their shirt that says _he/him._ Oh. _Of course you got it wrong. Stupid fucking toy._

“I’m Martin,” the new person introduces himself as. “I’m going to be taking care of you one-on-one during your recovery. We figured it would be best, given the situation you were in before.”

“Martin’s very experienced with this kind of work,” Dr. Banks adds. “It was what he specialized in while he was in uni, so you’re getting...close to a decade?”

“Eight years, yeah,” Martin replies, chuckling. His voice matches his appearance, quiet and soft. “So...hopefully you’ll be in good hands. That being said, there will be someone coming by every so often to make sure I’m doing things right, so don’t hesitate to speak to them if you can’t to me, for any reason.” He purses his lips. “Do you have a name, by any chance?”

Toys don’t have names. It shakes its head. 

It watches as Martin turns to Dr. Banks, a worried look on both their faces. It screwed up. Of course it did. “Mm...how about we call you ‘Doe,’ at least until we can find out more about you? And we’ll use they/them pronouns for you until then as well.”

Doe figures they don’t have much of a choice, but it feels...better. They nod, just barely a movement.

“Why Doe?” Dr. Banks asks him in a hush.

“I guess it just...feels more personal than calling them a Jean Doe, y’know? I don’t want them to think they’re not a person.”

 _I’m not a person,_ Doe thinks, but they can’t speak it aloud.

“Mm, I can see that.” Dr. Banks nods. “Alright, I'll put that on their record. Maybe we should contact police and go through any missing persons files that look at least a little similar to them.”

“Sounds good.” Martin gives him a thumbs up as Dr. Banks leaves the room again. “In the meantime...you’ll be coming with me to my house.”

So they are being sold off, then. They were Doe for such a short time, and now it’ll go back to being a toy. “Can you stand on your own?” Martin asks it.

It feels too weak to stand, but it nods anyway. It should still try. Sitting up takes a great deal of effort, and putting pressure on even its uninjured leg _hurts._ Martin frowns.

“Do you want me to carry you instead?” It doesn’t know why he’s asking—maybe it’s a test, and it’ll be punished if it doesn’t go along, so it nods. Carefully, Martin scoops it in his arms, resting its head on his shoulder and having an arm under its back and knees. Elias had always dragged him around, but...this is different. It feels like Martin actually wants to protect it. At least for now.

— — —

“Doe, we’re here.”

Doe remembers that they have a name now. It’s nice to have a name, an identity, even if they’re not sure it’s theirs, and they’re not sure they deserve it. They couldn’t focus very well while Martin was driving, letting their thoughts slip by and jumble together.

“Just stay there, I’ll come carry you again.” Doe obeys, and they watch as Martin gets out of the car and comes around to their side. They undo the seatbelt for him, and he scoops them up again to carry them into his house.

It’s definitely much smaller than their old Master’s, but still nice. Doe is carried through what they believe is the living room and upstairs, with Martin eventually stopping in front of a door. When he opens it, Doe sees that it’s a bedroom. A plainly decorated one, but they shouldn’t complain. Their old Master never gave them a bedroom.

Martin sets them down on the mattress, and they sink into it. “Okay, I’m going to be doing a bit of work in my office. Requesting additions to a fingerprint and dental records database, getting you signed up for physical therapy, stuff like that. If you need me, my office is outside this door to the left.” With that, he leaves, leaving Doe on the bed, alone.

It doesn’t take long for the loneliness to set in. No matter how horrible their old Master was, they still craved his affection. Maybe he had trained them to beg for it. They still wanted it. Even the times where he forced himself on them or beat them, at least there was _contact_ there. Anything was better than...well.

_All the time blurred together. Sleep wouldn’t make time go faster. It just prolonged everything. Crushed into a dark box in a dark closet in the darkest hallway. Arms and legs aching, begging for impossible movement. Numbness. Couldn’t even shift into a more comfortable position. As if it existed within the box. The air grew stale. They could’ve died there._

Doe shoots up in the bed, panicked. _Door to the left,_ Martin told them. Their foot screams when they put pressure on it, and their legs shake uncontrollably, and they have to lean on the wall for support, but they manage to get to the doorway.

Across the hallway, there’s two doors, one to the left and right respectively. Doe tries to go to the door on the left, but they slam into the wall as their legs give out. They can hear muffled footsteps. Oh god, Martin’s going to punish them for being clumsy, isn’t he?

“Doe?” Martin opens the door and looks around for a moment before finding them crumpled on the door. “Doe! Are you okay?” He picks them up again, and Doe feels much safer. They shouldn’t nuzzle into him, though. Their old Master would never let them do that. He wasn’t available for _Doe’s_ affection. “Um...did you. Need something?”

Oh, right. Martin probably wants them to reply. They can’t remember the last time they used their voice when it wasn’t them crying out, or saying “Yes, sir” or “No, sir” depending on the situation. 

God, now that they think about it, their reasoning is pathetic. They don’t want to— _can’t_ —say anything that’s the whole truth.

“Doe? Are you, erm...are you mute? Shake your head yes or no.”

They clam up from time to time, and their old Master never really let them speak unless they were being spoken to, but...they just shrug.

Martin hums in reply, and they’re pretty sure it’s not a bad sign. “Do you...want to stay in my office for a little while?”

 _How did he know?_ Doe isn’t sure what the right answer is. Maybe Martin just wants to be left alone and they’ll be dragged back to the bedroom. Eventually, they nod, figuring they could just get the punishment over with. Instead, Martin shifts Doe in his arms and carries them inside. The office is a little smaller than the bedroom, but it’s much more lovingly decorated—a desk in the corner of the room with various plants lining the windowsills, and shelves filled with books and little knick knacks.

“Uh…” Martin stands in the middle of the room, just...holding them. “Hm. Hold on a second, I’m going to get something from my room.” He sets Doe down in the desk chair before leaving the room. The leather of the chair makes them realize that they’ve been in nothing but a hospital gown for...however long they were in that room with Dr. Banks earlier. That’s probably not good.

Soon enough, Martin returns with a fuzzy, light purple bean bag, and they watch as he sets it on the floor somewhat close to his desk. “There we go!” He heads over to Doe and picks them up again, carefully depositing them in the bean bag. They sink even more into it, but it’s still comfortable, and at least they don’t feel alone anymore. They curl their knees up to their chest and watch as Martin works, typing things out on his computer and occasionally making calls, as pleasant as he’s been this whole time.

Doe must’ve fallen asleep at some point, because Martin sounds a lot more... _irate_ when they wake up.

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea for them to leave the house when they’re still so physically _and_ mentally fragile!” He’s pacing around the room, his phone to his ear and his cheeks flushed in anger. _“No,_ I don’t know specifically if they’re uncomfortable leaving. But that shouldn’t be the _point!_ You _said_ on your website that you do house calls.”

As much as Doe knows that logically, Martin’s not mad at them—he’s probably arguing _for_ them, now that they think about it—it doesn’t stop his yelling sounding too much like their old Master’s. They curl up even tighter, trying to plug their ears, but it doesn’t do much.

Martin sighs loudly. “Well, _fine._ If you’re going to be that much of a stickler about it, then I suppose I’ll go find _another_ physical therapist whose house call policy is _less_ strict.” He hangs up and groans, dismissively dropping his phone back on his desk. “Some _fucking_ people…” he mumbles, dragging his hands over his face.

At least, until he notices Doe, and he softens again. “Oh, you...heard that, didn’t you? Or at least parts of it.” Doe nods, and Martin walks over, kneeling down so he’s more face-to-face with them. “I’m sorry, Doe. I got upset, and I completely forgot you were in the room. Do you...want me to tell you what happened? Or did you hear enough?”

Doe shakes their head, and Martin hums in reply. They can guess at what was going on. “Okay...do you want me to hold your hand, or should I not touch you there?”

Doe looks up at him, sees him offering a hand but not touching him. Why does it matter? They’re Martin’s. If he wants to touch them, it’s not illegal. Another test, probably. Slowly, Doe reaches a hand out and places it in Martin’s palm. Their hands are _tiny_ compared to his, being almost entirely enveloped when his fingers close over their hand. His hand is very warm, at least.

“I’m sorry again, Doe. If I get frustrated like that again, I’ll make sure to leave the room first.” Doe nods, and Martin squeezes their hand. It’s...pleasant. “I’ve got a couple more things to take care of, and then I’ll start making dinner. Sound good?”

Doe nods again, and Martin lets go, returning to his desk again.

— — —

Doe can’t help but perk up when Martin stretches at his desk, then follows him as he leaves the office and heads down to the kitchen. “Oh, er, do you want to help?” Martin asks, getting some leeks out of the fridge and some chicken breasts out of the freezer. When Doe nods, Martin hums, thinking for a moment. “Why don’t you…” He puts a hand on the chicken. “Why don’t you pop these into the microwave, hit that one-pound defrost button on it, and let that go? And then can you go find some rice? It should be in a bag in one of the lower cabinets.”

Doe nods again, and they pick up the chicken, keeping a hand on the counter as they make their way over to the microwave. Once the chicken’s in and the microwave is humming, Doe looks back at the cabinets. The bag of rice is sitting on a small shelf, and they snatch it up.

Bag in hand, they walk over to where Martin is chopping leeks. It takes a bit for him to notice their presence, but he looks up and stops cutting. “Oh, thank you! You can set that over by the stove, if you’d like. Hm...there should be some chicken broth in the fridge as well, if you want to get that.”

Doe nods and starts going over to the fridge, but the microwave beeping makes their eyes widen, and their knees buckle under the shock.

“Ah!” Martin stops his cutting again to open the microwave so it stops beeping, and heads over to Doe. “Are you alright? Was it the microwave that scared you?” When they nod, he puts a hand on their shoulder, running his thumb over it. “Okay, well, it shouldn’t be beeping anymore, so you won’t get scared by it anytime soon. Want me to help you up?” He keeps _asking_ them things when it shouldn’t matter. If Martin wants to help Doe back on their feet, he will. If he doesn’t, he’ll just leave them there, and they can figure out a way to do it themself. Maybe this is his first time being a Master.

He still sounds like he wants to help them, though, so Doe nods. Martin wraps his arms around their waist and lifts them up onto their feet, keeping his hands on them—at least that’s not much different; their old Master liked to touch them as much as he could. With his help, they’re able to open the fridge, and they spot the broth on the top shelf. Martin still keeps a hand on their waist as they stretch onto their tiptoes to get it.

“Okay, thank you,” Martin says, taking the broth from him. “I think I can take it from here. Do you want to stay in the living room while I cook?”

The fact that he was doing any work was still odd, but now he was doing it _by himself?_ Their old Master never made his own meals. Doe’s stomach would rumble the whole time, only to get barely anything out of what they had made. They want to argue, but...Martin is their Master now. They hang their head and nod, shakily walking into the living room. Can they...sit on the sofa?

Best not to assume. Even though the floor is hardwood and cold, they lay down at the foot of the sofa and curl up.

They’re not sure how long it is before they feel footsteps, and Martin is in the living room with them. “If you want to, you’re allowed to sit on the sofa.” 

_If you want to._ Doe’s wants don’t matter here. They shouldn’t. Martin _has_ to be new at this, otherwise he would know it doesn’t matter. Maybe in some strange way, he wants Doe to have some nice things? It might be a trap, though. 

_It’ll be even worse if you don’t do what he says. He keeps saying “if you want to,” but they’re commands in disguise, not suggestions._ Slowly, they get up, and crawl onto the sofa in the same position as before. 

“Just wanted to check if you were comfortable or not,” Martin replies, before going back into the kitchen. Doe looks back at him, wondering when the ball is going to drop. 

Doe must’ve fallen asleep _again,_ because they wind up waking up with Martin gently shaking their shoulder. Sooner or later, they’re going to have to stop falling asleep so much. “Soup’s ready,” he tells them. “Come on, I’ll take you to the dining room. Do you want anything to drink?”

Doe shrugs. Even if this _wasn’t_ some odd trap, they don’t even know what he has to offer. Martin takes them to a small dining table and...pulls out a chair for them. They give him a look, but they reluctantly sit down. They’re _not_ supposed to be like this, even if they’re a person now.

Oh god, they gave Martin a mean look. He’s not going to give them anything now, is he? Doe wraps their arms around themself to keep them calm while Martin’s still in the kitchen. They’ve done this before, done this plenty of times. They can survive several days without food.

Their baffled state returns when Martin brings out two bowls, and he hands the smaller one to Doe. It’s not by much, though, and it’s actual _food._ Their eyes are wide, looking at the pieces of chicken and leeks and flecks of pepper. They look up at Martin, who’s in the middle of setting a glass of water by their bowl.

“Oh, uh...I know it's probably disappointing to not get as much, but Dr. Banks said you were suffering from malnutrition, and it's not exactly the best idea to give you huge meals right now. I did put the rest of it in the fridge if you're hungry later." Doe just stares back at him, and he seems to mentally back up. "Or...is there something wrong with it? Did you want me to make something else?” Doe shakes their head vigorously. “Doe, you’re...allowed to eat it. It’s not a trap.” 

Doe stares at the soup again, stares at the spoon dipped in it. _It’s not a trap_ definitely translates to _this is a trap, he’s just waiting for you to take the bait._

It’ll be better in the long run if they do. Carefully, Doe takes the spoon in their hand and sips some of the broth, and it’s _good._ Much better than the cold scraps of vegetables they were often given. Still, they don’t want to be rude, so they resist just setting aside the spoon and drinking down the soup altogether.

It takes them longer to finish than Martin, but he still waits until they’re done. He asks a lot of questions, but...they can’t answer them. Talking is still hard. But Martin never forces them to speak, just hums and asks a different question. It’s weird and _wrong,_ for him to not walk over to Doe’s side and grip their jaw until they speak. Eventually, Martin stops, realizing that he probably won’t get anything out of them tonight.

Once they finish, Martin stands up to get their bowl and glass, and Doe’s eyes widen. _They’re_ supposed to clean the dishes. They stumble into the kitchen to follow him, standing in the doorway as he loads the dishes into the dishwasher.

Martin looks up at them and tilts his head. “Did you need something, Doe?” They shake their head. “Did you...think you had to wash the dishes?” They bite their lip and nod, looking down. They’re probably being bad again. “Most of those are just gonna go in the dishwasher. I’ll wash anything that can’t go in there for now, okay?” They nod again. They know they shouldn’t argue, but it feels _wrong._ They’re going to need to do some work eventually, right? Once their foot is better, at the very latest. They can’t just... _stay here_ without doing anything. They’ll have to contribute.

Doe realizes a bit too late that they’ve just been standing in the kitchen, leaning on the wall for support. Martin probably wants them to leave. Before they can do anything, though, he speaks up again. “Hey, I know you’ve had a long day. Do you want to sleep?”

Sleep sounds nice. Really nice, considering how much his foot hurts. But if Martin’s going to stay up, they should be staying up, just in case. They shrug.

“Well...I’m probably going to wind down for the night. Get some reading done. It’s a little early for me, but...eh.” He shrugs. “I’ve had a bit of a long day too. Not just because of you, mind, but I don’t want to be asleep in case you have an emergency.” He steps away from the dishwasher. “Can I touch your back?” _Stop asking, just do it._ Doe nods, and Martin presses a hand near the top of their back. They let Martin lead them back upstairs to their room. It’s a bit of a struggle still, but Martin lets them lean on him (for some reason), and it makes things easier. 

“Okay,” Martin says, once he’s got Doe on the bed again. “I’ll let you know once I’m actually going to sleep, but feel free to sleep before then. You’ll need it, I think.”

They _can’t_ sleep, though. Not when Martin is still up. Besides, he was _never_ put in another room for sleep. At worst, their old Master made him sleep on the floor...they should’ve figured. Doe still wasn't good enough for Martin. That must’ve been why he was doing everything, never let them do much work. 

Doe wasn’t good at a lot of things. Their old Master never let them forget that. But they could at least warm Martin’s feet while he slept, right? They could still do that, right?

They’re still so wobbly like last time, but they can see the door next to Martin’s office is open, and the lights are on. They catch themself before they fall outside, and instead they clutch the doorway as they get there.

Martin is indeed there, tossing his clothes in a hamper. He’s now dressed in a faded, baggy t-shirt and flannel pajama pants, holding a rather thick book.

When he looks over at them, though, he startles a little. “Er...Doe? Do you need anything…?”

Doe still clings to the doorway, trying to find a way they could explain themself. They swallow. “I…” He hadn’t told him to, but it was such a simple thing. Maybe he expected it. “I’m supposed to warm your feet?” Oh god, their voice was so hoarse and _broken,_ even with the water from earlier.

Martin stares at Doe, eventually letting out a confused laugh. “Doe, I know we’re getting into the thick of autumn, but it’s not _that_ cold yet. Besides, you have a whole bed. Is there something wrong with the bed, or…?”

Doe shakes their head. They’re at a crossroads. Martin’s confusion seems genuine, but it’s only natural for a Master to want their toy to warm their feet at night. Still, it sounds like he wants them to sleep in the other bed, and they shouldn’t disobey their Master, but…

“Doe.” Martin’s voice is louder, and when they look up, he’s standing closer to them. They keep their gaze on him. “Would you feel more comfortable sleeping in here?”

It’s not about what they want, but it feels more right than sleeping alone. They nod. 

“Okay, do you want me to touch your back?” _Stop it._ They nod again, and Martin leads them over to the bed, letting go so they can climb onto the mattress. Martin doesn’t get in bed, though. Instead, Doe watches as Martin goes to the chest at the foot of the bed, taking a blanket and a decorative pillow off of it. He drapes the blanket over them and slides the pillow under their head. It’s strange, but it feels...nice. They know it’s not deserved, but Martin decides what they get or don’t get, so it doesn’t really matter.

They feel the bed shift as he gets under the covers, and after a few moments, they hear some slow, ambient music. They turn around to see that Martin’s playing some sort of video on his phone, probably to help him relax. “Is this...alright?” He asks, referencing the video. Doe nods, but it doesn’t matter what they want. At least the music is nice.

Aside from that, the only sounds in the room are pages turning, the occasional sigh, or soft “Oh…” or even a whispered “What?!” from Martin. 

Doe’s settled on a couple of theories for why he’s being so nice. One option could be that this is Martin’s first time owning someone, and he’ll realize that he’s been doing things wrong this whole time. He’ll start treating Doe normally then. The other option is that Martin’s testing them, waiting for them to not comply with what he really wants, cloaking it in questions and _“If you want to”s_ so they slip up faster. And then that’s when he’ll drop all pretenses. 

Both are scary to think about, that either way Martin will start being horrible to them soon enough, but at least it’s familiar. Doe closes their eyes, trying not to think about tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lays down. FINALLY. hopefully the next chapter will be up in less than [checks watch] a month and a half 
> 
> please check the end notes for chapter-specific content warnings!

When Doe opens their eyes again, they’re still on top of Martin’s bed. It’s much lighter out, but what’s most distressing is that Martin isn’t in bed.

_Shit. Shit shit shit shit **shit.**_ They scramble to get up, and end up falling off the bed in their haste. Their foot screams in pain, but they still grab onto the bed and pull themself up. There’s no excuse for this. Martin is up and wandering around and they haven’t even dressed him yet. Where could he even _be?_ The door that leads to what must be a bathroom is open and the light is turned off, and the door to the hallway is slightly ajar. Maybe he’s in his office, or even downstairs? Doe can’t fathom him having to make _breakfast_ for himself.

Before they can even get to the wall to walk out, though, Martin appears in the doorway with a plastic bag and a plastic bin full of what are probably clothes. “Doe!” His eyes widen, and he drops the bag before rushing over to the side of the bed to help them up. “A-Are you okay? Did you fall?”

With Martin this close, Doe can see that his hair is slightly damp, and he smells...comforting, something flowery and soft.

Well. It would be comforting if it didn’t mean that he’d already showered _without_ Doe. They might as well not exist around here. But...Martin probably wants an answer, so they shake their head.

Martin sighs in relief. “Okay, do you want to get back on the bed, or would you rather stay on the floor?” Doe just shrugs. “Well...which one is more comfortable, then?”

It takes a bit for them to finally respond. “...Bed.” With that, Martin lifts Doe up by the waist and sets them into a sitting position, and then sits next to them. “You’re...dressed already.”

Martin hums in reply. “I showered and had breakfast, too. Then I quickly ran over to work to get some clothes for you...admittedly, I had kind of forgotten that in the rush.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, Doe. But hey, you have clothes of your own now!” He reaches over to grab the bin and slides it over, opening it up.

Doe looks over to the plastic bin, and the first thing they notice is that there’s a couple packs of pants and socks on top of the clothes, and they look at Martin, confused. “The pants?” He clarifies, and Doe nods. “Oh! All the clothes we get over at work are used, so it’s a _bit_ unsanitary to get pants and socks if they’re not still in the packaging. You still need them, though, so I popped over to Primark and got some. Wasn’t sure what kind, so I got a couple different types. I got some toiletries as well,” he says, motioning to the bag he’d dropped earlier.

Doe feels a little better about wearing the boxer briefs, so they cautiously reach a hand forward, looking over at Martin. He doesn’t move, just...looks back at Doe as their hand inches closer to the package. He doesn’t react when they grab it, doesn’t slap it out of their hand as they pull it back, just smiles when they put it in their lap. “Alright, sounds good. I’m gonna start running a bath, but in the meantime, do you want to pick out your own clothes, or would you rather have me decide?”

Oh god, with the amount of clothes that are in there? “You…” they reply, and Martin nods. He goes into the bathroom and, after a few moments, Doe can hear the tub inside being filled up. Maybe he wants to take a bath to make up for Doe not helping him in the shower.

Martin comes back after a few moments, grabbing the bag and reaching down to sort through the clothes and pick some out, presumably for Doe to wear. “Do you want me to help, or can you stand up and get in on your own?” 

Doe turns and starts trying to get up, but it’s still difficult. Their foot hurts less than it did yesterday, but it still throbs whenever they put pressure on it, and it feels _gross_ stuck to their skin like it is. Martin walks over and holds an arm out for them, and they reluctantly take it, letting him guide them to the bathroom. They should be getting better, not constantly leaning on him all because of a foot injury.

“Okay, here we are,” Martin says, sitting Doe down at the edge of the tub. “I’m going to take off your gown now. I’ll try not to look.” 

_Isn’t looking the whole point?_ Doe doesn’t argue as he unties the ribbons on the back of the hospital gown, and they let it flutter to the floor. 

“Okay, ah...would you run your hand over the water for me quick? Just to check if it’s too hot or cold.” 

Doe doesn’t understand why _they_ should measure it for _his_ bath, but their old Master had done worse. They stick their hand under the running water, and move it away after a few seconds. “It’s good,” they reply. Admittedly, it’s a little too hot for their tastes, but Martin can probably handle it better.

“Oh! That’s good. Let’s get you in, then.” When they look over, Martin’s rolling up his sleeves, his hands hovering around their middle.

“What about you?”

Martin tilts his head. “Er...what about me?”

“O-or do you want me to go in first?”

“Doe, this...I already showered. I’m going to help you bathe. Or did you want to do that on your own?”

Doe looks away at that. They didn’t really get clean on their own, they just so happened to get it whenever their Master had them shower with him. Why was Martin _doing_ this? 

Probably another test. “Help me,” they reply, and they let Martin pick them up and put them in the bath. They sigh, letting the warm water envelop them. But Martin doesn’t take his clothes off further, doesn’t do anything aside from adjusting Doe’s leg so their bandaged foot is out of the water. 

“We’ll change that after you’re done,” he notes, getting the shower head down. “I’m going to wet your hair first, though.” With that, Martin turns the shower head on, and his free hand goes to hold the back of Doe’s head up as he rinses it down. Some of the water rolls down their face, but it feels...oddly nice. More nice than they deserve. Maybe they’re going to be entertainment. Doe’s last Master was far too possessive to have them entertain guests—he would always lock them in a closet whenever he had guests over, the muffled voices their only knowledge that people were still around.

Doe snaps out of those thoughts as the shower head is turned off, and he can smell a more potent version of that soft smell from earlier. Martin sets a shampoo bottle down on the edge of the tub, and suddenly his hands are in their hair, washing and lathering and occasionally scratching at their scalp. “Let me know if I’m being too rough, okay?” Doe nods, even though they probably won’t. They’re Martin’s to use however he pleases. Even then, they can’t deny that it feels good, feels _right_ to have his hands in their hair. If they were any more selfish, they would’ve just laid their head on the edge and let him run his hands through it forever.

After a few more moments, Martin pulls the shower head down again and washes away the shampoo. He, like last time, keeps his hand on the back of their head, though he sometimes wipes away the water that occasionally runs down their face. “You’re being very good for me right now, Doe,” Martin murmurs, and despite the warm water, Doe shivers. Maybe it’s just to lull them in, but being called good feels _so nice._ They can’t remember the last time it happened.

Martin pulls away again and gets a bottle of conditioner, squirting some out and carding it through Doe’s hair. They close their eyes, reveling in the feeling once again, before Martin dunks his hands in the water. Doe opens their eyes again and watches as he grabs a sponge, squirts something flowery onto it and lathering it up. “Okay...tell me if I’m washing somewhere off limits, alright?”

Doe nods, even though nothing is off limits for Martin. They let him take their arm, but Martin soon pauses. Not used to the cigarette burns dotting his skin, probably. Even though they’ve never seen him smoking, maybe he’ll add some new ones anyway. 

The sponge is gentle on Doe’s skin, at least. Martin still pauses every so often, though, to just stare at the scarring on their other hand, or all the marks on their back. It shouldn’t be all that surprising to him, really. And he’s oddly delicate around those areas too, pressing the sponge lighter on their skin there as opposed to everywhere else. Still, it feels nice, and the scent permeates everything around them. They don’t flinch when the sponge goes down to their ass or between their thighs, even if Martin seems nervous about it. 

“Okay, one last rinse…” he mumbles, setting the sponge aside and getting the shower head again. Doe lets the water wash over their body, over their hair again as Martin runs his hands through it. “Stay when I put the shower head away, I’ve still got a couple things to do, okay?” They nod, letting him hang it up again and take out another, smaller bottle, along with a washcloth. Face wash, from the looks of it. “Close your eyes,” Martin tells them, and they do.

It feels a little more odd on their face than on their body, but Doe takes to the tingly feeling well. “I’m going to wipe it off with the washcloth now,” Martin says, before they hear a dunking noise and then a wet washcloth being wiped on their face. Doe does their best to stay still until Martin says to open their eyes again. “There we go, good job,” he continues, smiling. “Okay, I’m going to redress your wounds now.” 

Martin moves down until he’s at Doe’s foot, and he winces as he starts taking the bandages off. “Well...it’s better than it was yesterday, that’s for sure.” He laughs nervously, standing up to toss the bloodied bandages away. Martin grabs a first aid kit from one of the cabinets, and he pulls out what’s probably a wipe and some new bandages. “Okay, this is probably gonna sting,” he says, getting back down and taking the wipe out of its packaging. True to his word, Doe stiffens as Martin wipes down his wounds, biting their tongue to keep from whimpering. It’s gone after only a few moments, though, and he’s soon wrapping bandages around their foot again. It’s nice and snug like last time, and he pats the top of Doe’s foot once he’s done.

“Alright, so,” Martin starts. “I’m going to dry you off now. I’ll get you out of the tub and have you lean on the counter so there’s not much pressure on your foot. Does that sound good?” Doe nods, but only because it sounds like Martin was going to do it anyway. “Alright then, I’m going to drain the tub and pick you up.” He reaches over and does just that, and Doe can hear the tub draining as Martin lifts them up under their arms. Before they know it, their good foot is resting on the tile, and their elbows are resting on the counter. “There we go, good job.”

Doe’s chest still fills with warmth at that, but...they feel like it’s undeserved. All they did was lie still; it’s the bare minimum for a situation like this. “I’m gonna start toweling you off, now,” Martin says behind them. 

After a moment, there’s a soft, pastel green towel being laid over their shoulders, and they let Martin dry them. It’s not rough by any means, but it’s still a firm pressure on their skin. Sometimes, he’ll ask them to move slightly so he can dry off other parts of their body. At some point, he asks Doe to lean their head forward, and when they do, they can feel a smaller towel being wrapped around their head, gathering up their hair and part of the towel is being tucked under a different part to stay out of the way. After that, Martin lays the towel down on the floor and invites them to stand on it again. 

“You’ve been very good so far, Doe. Thank you for that.” His hand hovers over their shoulder, and they move slightly so his hand and their shoulder touch. Martin smiles, and he lightly pats Doe there. “Oh! Before I forget, I’ve scheduled a check up with Dr. Banks today. We’ll stay here and do it online, though. Even though it’s not for another six hours, I figured I should tell you so you’re not startled over it.” 

Doe just nods along. They figure it’ll be nice to see Dr. Banks again, even if his cool touch won’t be on their foot like last time. Something about him is...calming, in a way they don’t really have the words for.

“Okay, now that you’re all dry, do you want me to help you dress, or would you rather do that yourself?” 

Doe can see the outfit Martin’s put together for them on the opposite side of the counter, neatly folded with the boxer briefs and a pair of white socks with kittens on them on top of it all. The bag is sat alongside them. “Help me,” they respond, and Martin gets to work.

Even if it’s unfamiliar, it’s... _nice,_ to know that Martin’s looking away as he slides the boxer briefs onto Doe. The socks come next, and even if they look difficult to get on, he doesn’t really show it. They go up to their mid-calves, and it’s a bit of a shame that their joggers cover everything except their feet. At least they can still see the kittens that are on their feet. The jumper comes last, still soft and baggy. “I figured I would go for something more comfortable for now,” Martin says, looking at Doe through the mirror. “Do you like it?”

_It doesn’t matter so long as you like it,_ is their first instinct. Instead, they nod.

“Alright, good to know.” Martin gets the contents of the bag out, which are a toothbrush, a hairbrush, and a stick of deodorant. “Would you be able to brush your own teeth?”

That, at least, they know how to do. They nod and reach for the toothbrush, only to remember that there’s no toothpaste to go with it. They spy a half-full tube on the counter, and they glance between it and Martin. “You can use that toothpaste, Doe,” he tells them, and they cautiously reach for it. It still feels weird using Martin’s things, then. 

Brushing their teeth was, at least, one of the few things they were still allowed to do on their own, even if it was for their old Master’s benefit. They could imagine it wasn’t exactly _fun_ having your cock in a mouth with bad breath and rotting teeth, but Doe still cherished that small freedom. They can see Martin at the other side of the counter, bending down to get something in the cupboard, and they quickly look away. He probably doesn’t want them staring at him.

After a couple minutes, Doe leans over the sink and spits out the toothpaste. “Here,” Martin says, putting a little paper cup under the faucet and filling it with water before handing it to them. They take it from him and swish the water around in their mouth before spitting it out in the sink. Even though it’s only been a couple days, they feel a little better now that their mouth doesn’t feel gross. Martin puts the deodorant and hairbrush closer to them, and Doe takes the deodorant and puts it on under their armpits. 

“Admittedly, there’s...probably a lot of knots in your hair. Would you prefer it if I took care of those, or…?” Doe nods to Martin’s question, and they wait as he undoes the towel around their head and lets their hair fall around their shoulders and down their back. “Okay, hold still...this is supposed to be gentle when it comes to detangling, so hopefully they’re not just lying.” 

The feeling of the brush in their hair feels nicer than they really deserve. Even if there is the occasional knot that makes them whimper, Martin’s good at quickly and (relatively) painlessly getting them out. Not to mention the occasions when he’ll part their hair along their hairline to avoid it getting further messed up, or running his hands through it to make sure all the knots are gone. 

“Alright, now that we’re done with that...would you like to go down and have some breakfast?”

— — —

Despite Martin telling them that it was “just cereal” and that he’d make them a better lunch, Doe was still grateful that they were given food after waking up late. He had even fretted over them potentially being lactose intolerant, but they were pretty sure they weren’t. The rare instances his old Master had given him milk, his stomach didn’t turn. Even then, they had to eat whatever was put in front of them, didn’t they?

After that, Martin had let them stay on the couch while he opened up the laptop on the coffee table, presumably to work while still keeping an eye on them. He’d turned on the TV, but whether or not it was just for background noise, Doe let themself be lost in some sort of nature documentary about Scotland. Occasionally, Martin would look over to them, but other than that, they just...existed in the same space. It was nice.

At some point, Martin breaks the silence. “Hey, Doe?” When they turned to look at him, he continued, “D’you want me to get you some of the leftover soup from last night for lunch?”

They’re going to get _way_ too used to this, aren’t they? Get their guard let down since Martin’s feeding them regularly, and then it’ll all be snatched away…

If that is his plan, it’s probably best to just...go along with it. They don’t need whatever punishment he’ll give them on top of eventually being starved again. Doe nods, and Martin sets his laptop down to go to the kitchen.

After a couple minutes of hearing the microwave hum (oddly enough, they hear the microwave door opening but not the beep that should’ve come before it), Martin comes back with two bowls, accompanying spoons, and pot holders underneath each. He sets the smaller one in front of Doe on the coffee table like yesterday, but...their hands are still shaky. There’s no way they could hold the bowl and eat from it without spilling, and _god,_ Martin’s going to be _pissed_ if he does that…

Doe unfolds themself from the couch and sits down on the floor on their knees. “O-oh, um…” Martin starts, and they look over to him. “You sure you don’t want a pillow if you’re gonna sit down there?”

They know this song and dance by now: if Martin asks them if they want something, he’s going to give it to them regardless. Might as well go along with it instead of risking punishment. Doe nods, and Martin grabs a throw pillow from the couch and sets it on the floor next to them. They get up for a moment to put it under their legs and get back into position to eat. Their hand is still shaky, but at least they can just hold their head over the bowl if they happen to spill.

Martin doesn’t talk like he did during dinner, and while they much prefer not being asked many things, it still makes things...a little awkward, now. Now that Martin’s not focused on work, it feels like there’s _something_ hanging in the air that he wants to address, but...isn’t. Even though his wants are the only ones that matter here.

Eventually, he stops eating and goes back to his laptop, and the _something_ disappears like that. Doe is slow to finish, but once their spoon lightly clatters against the inside of the bowl, Martin looks up. “D’you want me to carry that back to the kitchen?”

_Go with it._ Doe nods, and they lift up the pot holder and bowl to him. Martin takes it from them and gets his own bowl as well, heading into the kitchen. They can hear the dishes being loaded into the dishwasher. They should be cleaning those, but...it’s Martin’s will, at the end of the day. 

“You can be back on the couch, if you want,” Martin says when he comes back, and Doe obliges. Even if he’s being coy about it, the _‘if you want’_ is just code for _‘you should do this.’_ Doe knows all the tricks by this point. 

The documentary beforehand had apparently ended, since the TV was now on one about animals in the Sahara Desert. Doe can feel themself getting sleepy, but they refuse to take a nap _now,_ when they should be ready for any of Martin’s instructions.

Sure enough, Martin does get their attention again by asking their name. “Our appointment with Dr. Banks is in five minutes. I’m gonna get that set up now, alright?” He puts his laptop down on the coffee table and clicks over to a live feed of...some sort of office. It’s neatly organized, the walls a royal purple, but with an empty chair in the middle of the screen. In the bottom right corner, Doe can see Martin’s face, and when they scoot closer to him, they can see themself too.

After just a few moments, though, they hear a door closed, and Dr. Banks appears on the feed. He sets down a file on the desk next to him, and when he looks up at the camera, he smiles. “Well, there you two are. I turned on the feed before I went to get Doe’s file, sorry if I was gone for very long.”

“No, you’re alright,” Martin says, waving a hand dismissively.

“I can see you’re looking a little better, Doe,” Dr. Banks comments. “How is your foot holding up?”

“Okay…” they manage to reply.

“Oh, good! That’s good. Hopefully it should be mostly healed within the next few days.” They hum, but don’t say anything in response. Before they can panic over potentially being rude, Dr. Banks continues. “Oh, and Martin, I did get your email about the physical therapist, and he’s been approved. Doe, your appointment with Dr. Keay is on Thursday, so that’s two days from now.”

Martin must see Doe’s face flash with worry, and he looks over. “Hey, don’t worry, this is a different one from the one you heard me getting cross with over the phone.” They seem a little more at ease at that, at least.

“Okay…” Dr. Banks opens the file he’d gotten and turns to the second page in it. “As of right now, Elias Bouchard is still in jail awaiting his trial. No cash bail.” Martin lets out a sigh of relief at that, so Doe figures they should at least act relieved too, even if they’re not sure what that means. Why is their old Master in jail, though? They at least remember that term. Sure, he was being led away, but...maybe he was just being escorted. He would often leave for...well, certainly a long time. They couldn’t really tell the days apart. Oh god, what would happen if he somehow left? Jail was hard to leave from, but he could probably do it. They knew how powerful he was. 

What if it was all fake, anyway? Something meant to scare them. He’d done it before, plenty of times. Faking going to jail and having them be sold off, only to rescue them and bring them home again...it hadn’t gotten to that level, but it wasn’t impossible. Their old (or were they still owned by him?) Master was nothing if not unpredictable.

“Police have interrogated him, but as it stands, they haven’t released any transcripts. They’ve also been looking into missing person files, but that’s been slow-going.” Dr. Banks’s voice makes Doe snap out of their thoughts, and he seems to notice. “Is...everything alright, Doe?” He asks.

Doe sits stock still, eyes wide before looking away again. _If it is a trick, just go along with it._ They nod. They can feel Martin’s concerned gaze on them. 

The silence is broken again by Dr. Banks’s voice. “Okay, well...if you’re sure. But Doe, please try to keep in mind, we want to help you. And we can’t help you if we don’t know what’s really going on. Whatever you want to keep private, we’ll respect that, but please make that known to us instead of lying, alright?”

Even if his tone is gentle, it doesn’t stop Doe from analyzing every word, trying to find hints of frustration or anger or... _anything_ that would indicate that they’re going to be punished. They nod again to keep suspicion off of them, but it feels more stilted this time.

“Hey,” Martin murmurs, and Doe can sense a hand hovering over their back. They lean into it, and it feels...far too nice, having their back stroked with a thumb. “S-Sorry, Oliver, they’ve been pretty cagey lately.”

Dr. Banks shrugs. “No worries, I’m not exactly expecting them to be totally carefree after two days.” He shuffles the papers in the file again. “We’re currently working to get a profile together for you, Doe, in case nothing turns up in the missing person files. It could also be a situation where you didn’t go missing in the London area, so we’ll make sure that gets out to the greater South of England and expand from there if we don’t find anything.”

“Doe, that means we’re going to have to do some measuring later today, alright?” Martin asks, turning to them again. “It won’t be anything invasive. Just height and weight, right?” He turns to Dr. Banks, and he nods. 

“That, and any notable scars they have, though that’s not as much of a priority since they could very well have been Elias’s doing.” Martin hums in acknowledgement.

Doe numbly nods along to the rest of the meeting, half taking in whatever Martin and Dr. Banks are talking about. They don’t ask them very many questions, thankfully, and whenever they do, they don’t _sound_ angry. Maybe they’re just hiding it well.

“Alright,” Dr. Banks says with a tone of finality, closing the file. “Doe, do you have any questions for me or Martin?”

They think about it for a moment. Is it worth it trying to get them to drop all pretenses? Or is it just going to make things worse for them? They sigh. “When am I...going back?”

“I’m...sorry?” Dr. Banks furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “Could you repeat that, Doe?”

_Oh god, he’s mad. He’s mad, but…_ They gulp, resisting the urge to clam up. It’s only gotten them beaten before. “When am I going back? To, to Elias.”

Martin’s eyes widen. “Doe, what...you’re not _going_ back. E-Elias is in jail, and even if he _somehow_ doesn’t get a sentencing, we can get a restraining order so he won’t be allowed near you.”

“That’s not…” Doe shakes their head. “No, this is, you don’t have to pretend anymore…”

“We’re…” Dr. Banks trails off. “Doe, I don’t know how I can convince you, but I can promise that we’re not pretending.”

“No, it’s just part of it…” They sigh. “Master already messes with, with my head enough. Shouldn’t be surprised…”

“Doe, please—” Martin cuts himself off when Doe gets up off the couch. “Doe, wait, please…” He trails after them, not wanting to stop them in case they lash out, but feeling helpless following behind them as they shakily go up the stairs. “Doe, how do we convince you that this is real?”

“You can’t, I...I know it’s not real, please just let me go home,” they reply, practically babbling now. “At least Master made sure I knew I was right…”

“Doe, really, this—” Before Martin can continue, though, Doe makes it to their bedroom and shuts the door. 

They can hear Martin sigh through the door. “Okay...Doe. I don’t know if you can hear me, but if you can, you can come back down whenever you’re ready. You’re not going to go back to Elias’s house, no matter what happens, okay? I just…” He sighs again. “If you need anything, let me know.”

With that, they hear Martin walk back down the stairs. If they strain, they can hear him and Dr. Banks talking. Not any real words, but they can at least hear tone. They both sound...concerned. Worried. But what _kind_ of worried? Is it the kind where they’re trying to come up with an alternate plan, now that Doe knows? Or is it actually real? Is...is their Master _actually_ gone? 

They feel an odd twinge in their heart at that. Doe curls up and sits by the door. At least their Master never tried to keep the game up after it was over. 

A lock of their hair falls in front of their face, and they can’t help but grab it and sniff. The same soft smell from Martin, earlier in the day. 

_I don’t know what to do._

At some point, Doe falls asleep. When they wake up, they end up falling back asleep again. Martin never bothers them. 

The second time they wake up, they can hear the faint sounds of the TV downstairs. Martin still hasn’t bothered them. Their stomach rumbles.

Slowly, carefully, Doe opens the door, trying to avoid any creaking. As they carefully go down the stairs, they can see Martin facing away from them. He’s got a white cloth over a circular board with several spools of thread in various colors on the coffee table. It looks like he’s stitching...something, but they can’t figure it out.

They shouldn’t dwell on it. Martin’s occupied, and they need to be quick without making too much of a scene. They’ve done this before.

Oddly enough, though...Martin keeps his back turned. Doe’s feet stumble a little when they’re near the kitchen, but he doesn’t even look up. One of the cupboards creaks, but there’s no footsteps coming towards them. When the packet of fruit snacks they grab crinkles a little too much, still nothing. Doe gets out as fast as they can without tripping, still nothing. 

Doe lets out a sigh of relief when they’re back in their room, hopeful that it hadn’t been messed with. If Martin went in at any point, they probably would’ve known. They’d been pressed up against the door, and if he opened it, well. They would’ve fallen. And they never did. They can at least know that.

The darkness outside tells them that it’s probably late, and exhaustion finally hits them then. Two naps had, apparently, not gotten rid of that.

They crawl into bed and eat their fruit snacks, stuffing the empty packet in the pillowcase afterwards. They can take it down tomorrow, bury it in the trash bin so Martin doesn’t see it and become suspicious.

They’ve done this before. They can do it again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings:  
> \- more of jon/doe believing that martin is their master  
> \- quick mention of (hypothetical) poor mouth hygiene  
> \- near the end of the chapter, this belief switches to one where jon/doe thinks that they're still owned by elias, and that their stay with martin is some sort of odd long game  
> \- jon/doe has a bit of a panic attack when they reveal this belief to martin and oliver  
> \- jon/doe starts sneaking food out of the kitchen, with the implication that they've done it under elias


End file.
